I was trying to sleep at my folks' house. The sun was still shining at 10:30 PM, and it was keeping me up. So I got up, put on my white bathrobe and stumbled outside onto their deck.
There was some sort of 1960's cocktail party going on on the deck (quietly chimed samba, guests with little drinks having quiet conversation). I made a comment to my Mom about the sun in February.
Across the valley, on Bald Hill, someone had inflated four, brightly colored (three yellow, one red) disk shaped balloons. They were about four stories tall, and they flopped over the oaks and pines. They were ugly. They were supposed to be "art."
I dreamt something earlier in the night -- but all I remember footsteps in the dark, and when I try to remember harder Philip Glass's "Ankhnaten" plays in my head.